


they never touch your blood & guts

by worry



Series: little bits of stardust [16]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Gen, I swear I love him. I SWEAR., Mental Breakdown, Metaphors! Metaphors! Many Metaphors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-16
Updated: 2016-12-16
Packaged: 2018-09-09 01:40:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8870806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/worry/pseuds/worry
Summary: Good people don’t have rows and rows of sharp teeth. Good people don’t burn in the sun. Good people don’t allow others to hurt them. That’s a story for a different lifetime, if he gets one. Raphael is not a versatile person. (Or: Raphael breaks.)





	

Raphael can go a very long time without falling apart. This is the only good thing about him, the only thing that he can’t tear out of what is _left_ of his being; there are always more important things, he thinks, than emotions. There are always more important things. The vampires look to him for their justice, the vampires _look up to him._ He has to protect. He is nothing without it, just a screen flicker, flash of lightning forgotten. Protect. Protect. Protect.

 

It is hard to protect when there is a fire raging inside of your mind. He would prefer the sun to this, its quick death shaking him. The fire burns with him. The fire burns _him._ All that is left, after this fire, is – something that cannot protect.

 

So the fire extinguishes itself. Versatility. It’s as easy as this: ignore it, and it goes away. It being the monster. It being Raphael, and Raphael’s bones, and the monster. It being the fact that everything Raphael touches burns like a mind-fire. It being Raphael, who is the monster, who is the bones. These are the kind of terrors that eat you up – not in the way that vampirism eats you, because that is a different kind of teeth. A different kind of fear. There are many different kinds of ghosts, you just have to know what to look for. You just have to ignore it, so it goes away and doesn’t eat you up in a different way, in the Bad way. Worse than the fangs. Raphael is not a versatile person. Good people don’t have rows and rows of sharp teeth. Good people don’t burn in the sun. _Good people don’t allow others to hurt them._ That’s a story for a different lifetime, if he gets one.

 

Raphael is not a versatile person. He lets it eat him up and digs his claws into his arms just a little bit harder.

This is just what he deserves.

 

Raphael does not deserve Magnus, either, but that doesn't stop Magnus from _being._ That doesn't stop Magnus from being Magnus, from being here, from caring. Magnus is too good, like sunlight, if sunlight was something that Raphael could touch.

 

Raphael can go a long time without falling apart, but when he does, he shows up at Magnus’ door. Breaking, like he’s something fragile and not _hard._ There is nothing soft about Raphael, nothing fragile, but he shows it, fingers shaking like a weakness. Raphael, shattering like porcelain, like something _fragile_ breaking. Oh. How embarrassing.

 

He knocks at Magnus’ door. Magnus has said, many times, that he doesn't need to knock, that he can _walk right in,_ but Raphael has not unraveled yet, how _embarrassing._ He can't walk in like this; _composure._ He composes himself, always, no faltering, to avoid looking like his true self.

 

How embarrassing.

 

Magnus answers. _Come in, come in, how many times do I…_

 

_ Raphael? _

 

“Magnus,” he says, voice as monotone as he can manage, how _embarrassing,_ this weakness brewing. “Hello.”

 

“Are you okay?”

 

“I don’t know,” he admits, and licks his fangs. How embarrassing! It’s _Magnus_ , he should feel safe, but…

 

“Sit down,” Magnus says, and Raphael sits, body completely hollow. The chair is a little bit too warm, against his cold skin.

 

“I’m sorry,” Raphael says, monotone voice crumbling. “I should go.”

 

“You’re not going anywhere,” Magnus tells him, “until—“

 

“I—I—I’m sorry,” he stutters, and forgets how to be embarrassed. Forgets everything except the bad. “I—I don’t know why it keeps happening to me.”

 

Magnus sits next to him, places a hand on his back. “You don’t have to be sorry.”

 

“But I _do,_ ” Raphael says, and internally: _I don’t know how to be anything but sorry._

Sorry.

 

“There must be something wrong with me,” he says. “I can’t even keep myself together, they need me, and I’m… I’m here. I’m doing this. I can’t seem to do anything right, and—“

 

“Raphael—“

 

“I’m broken, Magnus. Or – or I _feel_ broken.”

 

“Raphael—“

 

“I can’t do this anymore,” he says, voice finally, _finally_ breaking. Raphael can’t continue on like this, can’t continue burning. This fire in his mind will _never_ die. This fire inside of him will consume.

 

Good people don’t have fires inside of them. He will always be stuck.

 

“Raphael,” Magnus says softly. “Listen.”

 

Raphael stops.

 

“You lead all of the vampires,” he says. “You’re exactly where you’ve always wanted to be.”

 

“But Camille—“

 

“You’re in charge now.”

 

“That doesn’t make it all go away.”

 

“No, it doesn’t,” Magnus says, “I know it doesn’t. But think of it this way – you lead them. They all look up to _you._ Where would they be if something happened to you? What would happen to all of the vampires?”

 

“I’m only going to hurt them,” Raphael says. “Every decision I make hurts someone. I honestly don’t know what to do. I don’t know to stop hurting people.”

 

“You _don’t_ hurt people. You are so strong, Raphael. You’re strong.”

 

“I don’t feel strong,” he says, like a weakness, like embarrassment. He is weak. Raphael Santiago is _weak._ Not-strong. He has never been strong, nothing about him is strong; his body is weak, because it crumbles for anyone he can save, and his mind is weak, because here he is. Here he is, being the Raphael that the vampires don’t see.

 

"You're still here,” Magnus tells him, voice soft. “You’re still alive. That takes an incredible amount of strength.”

 

Raphael thinks about it. What it means to be _alive._ Good people have hearts that beat, good people breathe, good people don’t eat and eat, gorge up on bitterness, _let it consume you – good people don’t let it consume them. It being the fire. The fire being Raphael._ It’s very interesting and he doesn’t have enough time. He has every minute. All good people die, eventually. All good people decay. Raphael decays, but—

 

Good people die. Good people don’t live forever. Good never lasts.

 

Raphael will last forever, will witness it all, until the end of time. That has to be _something,_ pulled right out of fire. He will always be here. He will always be able to protect, if he can get his mind to protect.

 

“I… don’t know,” he says, and thinks about walls crumbling. Thinks about building walls back up, in his mind. He can go a long time without falling apart. _Embarrassing._

 

“You don’t have to know,” Magnus says. “You just have to keep going.”

 

Raphael wipes at his face; good people look human. Good people keep going. That is some semblance of good, even if it is buried, like a body.

 

“I think I can do that,” he tells Magnus, and stands up.

**Author's Note:**

> My wonderful boyfriend Fay (ao3 user peaceforthenight) gave me this idea!!! Pls comment+kudos if you enjoyed, it'd be appreciated! Thanks!<3
> 
> ALSO IM STARTING UP THE DAILY DRABBLES AGAIN I'M SO SORRY I got Majorly Depressed and... yeah. Also school. BUT NOW SCHOOL IS DONE ! And i'm sticking with it this time I promise!


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